


Epiphany

by geekmama



Series: All Holiday [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Humor, Post-Episode: The Abominable Bride, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-31
Updated: 2017-07-31
Packaged: 2018-12-09 12:37:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11669277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/geekmama/pseuds/geekmama
Summary: It's 'Christmas' for everyone, in the purely Sherlock sense of the word, when John, Greg, and Sherlock seek Molly's professional expertise on her day off.





	Epiphany

**Author's Note:**

> For the 'Christmas' prompt on LJ's Sherlock100 community.
> 
>  
> 
> *******************************

Sherlock had been back on terra firma for almost two weeks, and John had watched him plunge into a routine that alternated between long, manic bouts of crime-solving -- double murders, stolen pets, and everything in between -- and brief, but intense moments of introspection that were no less worrisome for being understandable. It had, after all, been a tumultuous year for him, what with several narrow escapes from death and hair-raising behaviors that seemed to obliterate the boundaries of what he would do “for a case”. Not to mention his increasing awareness of what people and sentiment actually meant to him, which was at the root of it all. John could see why Mycroft feared for his little brother. Sherlock was deep in the throes of becoming human again, and for a man for whom the word “extreme” was obviously invented, it was an alarming prospect.

John and Greg Lestrade were watching over him as best they could, however, and so were privileged to witness an encounter that set one more nail in the coffin of Sherlock’s “machine” status.

“Ten to one Molly Hooper would know exactly how to interpret all this,” Lestrade said, pointing and frowning over the photographs of the victim, evidence in the latest puzzle he’d brought to Sherlock. “Maybe we’d better run over to Barts.”

“Not there,” said Sherlock. “She’s off today, pedicure at noon, then lunch with that friend of hers, Meena, at 1:30. Probably home right now, though. Let’s go.”

John found himself scowling. “How do you know all that? Did you hack her personal calendar?”

“If she doesn’t mind why should you?” Sherlock said, dismissively.

“She’s aware you do it, then?”

“Well, she’s known me for years, John. She’s not precisely stupid.”

Lestrade merely shook his head with that  _ you have to laugh _ look in his eyes, but John’s scowl deepened.

However, when the three of them were standing in front of Molly’s door some fifteen minutes later, John’s annoyance with his friend and colleague was much assuaged when the petite pathologist opened the door within a minute of Sherlock’s peremptory rap.

“Hi, guys!” Molly said brightly, smiling up at them.

Lestrade grinned, and John felt himself smiling back, too, even as the word “adorable” popped into his head. But Sherlock… just stared. Quite knocked acock.

Molly’s usual pert ponytail was in evidence, but that’s where  _ usual  _ ended. She’d been exercising, apparently, doing yoga or something very like, for she was dressed in black leggings and a purple, feather-patterned sports bra. Modest enough, really, though the bra did leave her midriff bare, and the ensemble did nothing to hide precisely how fit she was. Small, and surprisingly shapely, and beautifully proportioned, with a glow of good health about her.

_ Adorable. _

Sherlock, however, seemed bereft of words, and Molly’s smile faded just a little, a pretty blush stealing over her cheeks. “Sherlock…” she began, uncertainly.

But Lestrade chuckled, stepping forward. “Don’t mind him, Molls, apparently he doesn’t know quite  _ everything  _ about you. Now here, will you take a look at these and tell us what you make of the pattern of bruising -- it’s baffled all of us, even the consulting git, here.”

Goaded, Sherlock said, “I merely want my theory confirmed…” But his voice trailed off and he stepped aside without protest as Lestrade pulled out the photographs again.

John watched Sherlock watching Molly. Her head bent toward Lestrade’s as she studied the evidence and gave her thoughtful replies to his questions. Sherlock began to look less than pleased as the discussion went on, his hands curling into fists once or twice before he remembered himself. Then he straightened his fingers, and his back and shoulders, schooling his expression, though his eyes narrowed when he glanced over at John.

But John couldn’t have stopped his smirk for a thousand pounds.

Finally Lestrade said to Sherlock, “Well, looks like you were on the right track.”

Sherlock nodded. “It’s always good to have confirmation from a professional, however,” he said with contained approbation. Molly looked up at him, surprised and pleased, and Sherlock cleared his throat slightly, his eyes helplessly sweeping over her lithe form once more, a tinge of color rising. “We’d better go, you’ll be late for your pedicure,” he blurted, turning away, and rather unfortunately added, “My regards to Meena!”

Molly’s brows drew together in annoyed realization as Sherlock strode quickly toward the car.

Lestrade patted her arm, laughter in his eyes. “Now, now, you know what he is. Thanks for the assist, Molly, you’re a peach as always.”

Molly took a deep breath through her nose, still glaring at Sherlock’s retreating form. “Always a pleasure working with you, Greg. And you, John.”

“Cheers,” John said, still smirking, and followed Lestrade back to the car in Sherlock’s wake.

Once they were seated and on their way, John said, quite casually, “Molly was looking well, wouldn’t you say, Sherlock?”

But Greg gave a bark of laughter. “ _ Well? _ Lord, that’s nowhere near the mark! If I wasn’t close to reconciling with Mrs. L., I have to say I’d be sorely tempted .  _ Sorely _ tempted.”

Sherlock was muttering something that vaguely sounded like “ _ Shut. Up! _ ” as he stared out the window.

John continued smirking and wondered how soon he’d have a chance to text Mary. “ _ Machine” my arse! _

*

**Dinner? - SH**

Molly, recognizing the text alert, pulled out her mobile and sighed, a combination of exasperation and amusement.

“Sherlock?” Meena asked with a wry grin. “What’s he need now?”

“Dinner, apparently,” Molly said, resigned. Her finger slid over the keypad.

**Mine or yours? - MH**

She said to Meena, “At least I’ll be able to rake him over the coals about the hacking.”

Meena sniffed. “You think that’ll stop him?”

“No, but--”

**Angelo’s. - SH**

Molly stared. Then sent a reply.

**The restaurant? - MH**

“What’s he say?” Meena demanded, apparently alert to Molly’s expression.

Molly flushed. “Nothing. He just wants Italian, I think.”

**You want Italian? Are you going to pick it up or shall I? - MH**

**I’ll pick YOU up. - SH**

**At 7. - SH**

Molly gaped, first at the message, then at Meena, then at the phone again.

Meena said, “Give me that!” and grabbed the phone.

“Meena!” Molly objected.

“Good lord! Is he asking you  _ out? _ ” Meena exclaimed gleefully, on reading the brief conversation. And then the text alert sounded once more and Meena gave a shout of laughter and handed Molly the phone, grinning like a fiend.

**It’s called a date, I believe. - SH**

Molly stared at the words.

“Well?” demanded Meena after a minute. “Aren’t you going to reply? Serve him right if--”

“Shush!” Molly said, rounding on her friend a little fiercely -- though she knew Meena had reason to feel that way. Still…

**Yes. OK. 7. - MH**

**You could have asked me in person, this morning. - MHx**

There was a rather long pause. Then…

**You know I prefer to text. - SH**

Molly gave a small snort.

**Alright. But we’re still going to have a DISCUSSION about you hacking my phone. AGAIN. - MHx**

There was another longish pause, but just as Molly began to fear she’d pushed too far, the text alert sounded once more and she smiled at the brief concluding message.

**Yes, ma’am. - SHx**

 

~.~


End file.
